


Nothing feels better than blood on blood.

by notvelma



Series: Whiskey Bent and Hell Bound [6]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Incest, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-27
Updated: 2013-03-27
Packaged: 2017-12-06 15:19:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/737147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notvelma/pseuds/notvelma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tommy comes home with blood on his hands and Hank doesn't ask questions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing feels better than blood on blood.

**Author's Note:**

> \- Somewhat connected with the Whiskey Bent series -- has basically become NON canon compliant but I still like it so I'm keeping it.  
> \- Loosely based on (and the title comes from) Springsteen's Highway Patrolman.  
> \- Also posted on my LJ and tumblr.

The night Tommy comes home with blood on his hands is the time Hank knows he's in too deep. The blood is not just on his big brother's hands; it looks like red paint with the way it's spattered over his clothes so messily. There's so much of it and Hank's chest aches at where it could've come from and the first coherent thought in his head is: _I don't care what happened, just please don't let that be his blood._

"Hank –" says Tommy and in such a pained voice that something catches in Hank's throat.

His eyes are scanning Tommy's body for injuries and then – "You're bleeding," he says, as though that isn't the dumbest statement to make at a time like this. "Let's – let's get you out of those clothes and into the shower, Tommy, Jesus." 

What else is he supposed to say? What can he say? 

It doesn't take much force to drag Tommy to the bathroom, mostly because his older brother seems too dazed and drunk, or under some sort of influence, to argue with him. As he helps his brother out of his clothes, it occurs to Hank that he should be concerned that Tommy is covered in blood – some of which is his and some of which probably isn't – and he doesn't even know what happened yet. He should call the police.

_You_ are _the police, you dumbass._

He knows that he's getting himself into trouble just by helping Tommy out, and the part that shocks him the most is that he doesn't care. All he wants is for Tommy to be okay. 

"Hank," says Tommy again, as he steps under the hot spray of the shower. "Hank. Hank. Please." He has his hands pressed against the shower tiles as the water washes over him, and while he might not be crying just yet, it seems like he might start any minute. If he does start crying, Hank doesn't know what he'll do. "I need you," Tommy begs. 

"I'm right here. I'm right here." Hank strips out of his own clothes and gets into the shower with Tommy, wrapping his arms around his brother's chest from behind. Pressing up against Tommy like that makes it hard to hide his erection from his brother and he feels like a fucking mess for it. He shouldn't be turned on in this situation, knowing that Tommy's done something wrong. 

He can't even imagine what it is that his brother's done, whatever led to the blood on his body, the bruises on his arms and the cut on his shoulder. What did he do? In Hank's head, all he sees are Tommy's big hands crushing another man's neck, wringing the life from his body. He sees Tommy's hands curled into fists, pummeling some guy's face into a pulp. 

"Please don't ask me what happened," says Tommy roughly, refusing to turn around. "Hank I can't tell you and get you involved in this too." He says something else, but his voice is too low for Hank to hear him, his words muffled by the sound of the water hitting the tiles. 

The words don't matter, anyway. What matters is the way Tommy's chest heaves with each breath he takes, the way his entire body shudders when Hank presses a kiss to the cut on his shoulder, or when Hank reaches around front to take Tommy's throbbing cock in his hand. 

" _Please,_ " gasps Tommy, thrusting forward into Hank's grip. 

Hank's heard this kind of drunk pleading before, but the tone Tommy is using is so much deeper than Hank is used to, the need that much more intense. It wells up inside of Hank's body, too. He and Tommy are connected, now, in a way that they never were before. In a way he'll never be with the rest of his family. Tommy owns him, now, and there's nothing he'll ever be able to do about it. Hank doesn't want to lose this, though; it's the best pain he's ever had.

He kisses Tommy's shoulder, mouthing words he can't say out loud. He strokes Tommy's cock and feels the shudder of his brother's body. He's always loved the way Tommy reacts so bodily to everything, as though his entire being is affected by one little touch. 

"Fuck," says Tommy in a low voice. "God, Hank, I need..."

But he won't say it. Hank knows what he wants by the way Tommy's hips push back toward him, but he knows that Tommy will never bother to ask this question out loud. "Are you sure?" says Hank. "I don't want –" They've never done it this way before. 

"Just do it," grits out Tommy. "Please." 

Please is not a word Tommy uses lightly, and not with that much meaning behind it either. It surprises Hank how much he's used that word just in the last fifteen minutes, and he thinks of how much that means to Tommy to have to put himself out there like that. He doesn't want to refuse, not anymore. This is something that his big brother needs, and Hank is going to help him. 

They've left the lube in the shower after the last time that Tommy had tried to use shampoo when he fucked Hank in the shower; that had not been a pleasant experience for either of them. Hank is thankful for that lube, because as far as he knows about Tommy, they're going to need it. Being on top is not exactly a new thing for Hank, but to have Tommy on the bottom certainly is, and he doesn't want to break his brother any more than he's already broken right now.

He takes it as slow as he can, even with Tommy pushing back at him and moaning _more, please, more, Hank, please,_ because there is a line to be drawn with giving Tommy exactly what he wants versus what he might need at this very moment. Feeling Tommy move against him is well worth the effort, though, and with the water washing around them, it's almost a surreal moment. 

"Fuck," groans Tommy, and Hank thinks that it must be hurting him, judging by the way he's gritting his teeth. Tommy doesn't complain, though. He doesn't ask Hank to stop, just pushes back against him until Hank is buried deep inside of him. Maybe the pain is what he's looking for. Maybe the hurt is what he needs after whatever happened today. 

Gripping Tommy's waist as leverage, Hank starts to feel himself slipping away. He's losing himself in the moment and he doesn't know that he wants to get himself back. He imagines leaving with Tommy, disappearing within themselves where nobody can find them. He wonders if he's drunk from the lust because he's never had these kinds of feelings inside his head before. 

He presses his forehead to Tommy's back as he comes, shuddering. His heart aches even as he feels Tommy coming, too. He wants to apologize, to say a hundred things, but all he does is press a kiss to his brother's spine and then pull out. 

Tommy turns around to face him, cupping Hank's face in his hands. "Don't know why in the fucking world I would want anybody else when I got you, Hank." 

The kiss is wet and drunk and sloppy, and Hank can do nothing but cling to Tommy and let it happen. All he knows is that in this moment, he doesn't want anybody else either. No matter what kind of trouble Tommy will get into, Hank will have to be there to pick up the pieces. And he wants it that way, wants to be the one to take care of his brother. He doesn't trust anybody else with the job.


End file.
